


Shore Leave: It’s Just A Fucking Gangbang

by RyeBread



Series: Shore Leave [3]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Body Worship, Cunnilingus, Deep Throating, Gangbang, Heavy Petting, M/M, Multi, Rimming, Sex Magic, Under-negotiated Kink, Vaginal Fingering, anal penetration, bareback, face fucking, handjob, mild Dom/Sub
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2021-01-02 03:29:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21154877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyeBread/pseuds/RyeBread
Summary: Fjord returns to Rej’s island and has a lot of sex with four orcs. There’s some kink and a lot of fucking.





	Shore Leave: It’s Just A Fucking Gangbang

**Author's Note:**

  * For [losebetter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/losebetter/gifts).

> Please don’t read my explicit fics if you’re not supposed to be reading this kind of stuff please and thank you!
> 
> A/N: AFAB coded terminology is used for Batul’s genitals.

It’s not that Fjord needs to stop for supplies, nor is it that he has to stop for supplies at this specific island; but nobody has ever been a captain of a ship without making one or two selfish decisions.

The sea breeze that stings Fjord’s nose is a familiar one, or at least he imagines it is. Olives and brine. “Orly?”

“Yes, cap’n?” the elderly tortle replies. It hasn’t been particularly long since their last stop on the island, and Fjord is sure that Orly is more than aware of the reason behind the frequency of their visits. He’s no Caduceus, but he’s got a sharp sense to him nonetheless. It’s what makes him such a good navigator.

"You can still send messages across the sea, right?" Fjord asks, not looking at him.

“It's in the realm of possibility," Orly says. "Was there anyone in particular you wanted it sent to?”

Fjord hesitates, which is unbefitting of a captain, to be sure, but it's not as though Orly is one to judge. "I think," he begins, "it would be pertinent to alert the owner of the port to our imminent arrival."

"Is there something wrong with our flagger? I have a bit of m~m- medical knowledge, if he's feeling under the weather, cap'n." It's hard to read a shit-eating grin on a face like Orly's, but Fjord's had some practice.

It wouldn't behoove a captain to blush under scrutiny, so he makes the executive decision not to. "Given how small the port is, it couldn't hurt to make sure they're prepared."

Orly just chuckles softly, lifting a brow that makes Fjord flush--not blush, certainly not--at the unspoken comment on his entirely accidental innuendo. "What would you like to say?"

Fjord clears his throat, banishing the embarassment. He counts off the words on his fingers as he dictates, "Rej, it's Captain Fjord of the Nein. We will be coming ashore in a day's time. Please report if there will be difficulties. Thank you."

Orly nods, repeats the messeage while focusing toward the setting sun, then waits for a few seconds to listen for a reply. He takes the pipe out of his mouth and rolls his jaw. "Cap'n Fjord. Good to hear from you. There are two ships in port. You're good with tight fits. You'll m~manage just fine. I can't wait-," Orly stops, grinning slyly. "Sorry, m~message cuts off there. We'll just have to use our im~m; we'll just have to guess."

“Quite,” Fjord says. “Well, glad that’s settled then. I trust you can manage the crew for a few days ashore?”

“I always do.”  
—-  
When the Nein pulls into port, it is indeed a bit of a production to fit the ship. Luckily the crew is experienced and the port is familiar, so there are no accidents. Fjord is hollering orders for the better part of an hour before everything is set and squared and he can finally justify handing off the rowdiness to Orly. Somehow Orly’s stern instruction comes across softer when it follows a good, long bellowing from their captain. So Fjord checks his coat and money purse one last time before walking down the plank and into the town proper.  
He makes a show of looking about, but his inexorable trawl toward Rej’s bar is a short one. When he walks up to the heavy door, he is surprised to find it locked, however. The odds of Orly having been teasing him are slim, but his paranoia starts up for a moment before he shakes it off and listens through the door. There are several loud voices coming from within, so he shrugs and gives the door a solid knock, calling, "Rej? You in there?"

There's a moment where the voices stop short, then an indistinguishable aside before Fjord hears the sound of heavy footfalls. When the door unbars and swings open, Fjord gets a nice eyeful of Rej's thick, uncovered torso and, past him, three others sitting at a table in the middle of the room. They’re all of a similar height, but different builds, hair, and skin tones. Rej seems pleased to see Fjord, his eyes lighting up. “Captain,” he says, voice liltingly cheerful. He smirks, “Come on, I saved you the best seat in the house.”

Fjord takes a moment to suppress his embarassment and put forth his most confident presence as he follows Rej across the wooden floor; keeping his chin and gaze firmly up as he takes a seat on the proffered knee at the table once Rej sits down. “Rej. Always a pleasure.”

“I’m sure,” says the Orc to his right. Where Rej is thickly proportioned and padded, this man is cut and angular. His hair is dark and thin, falling in short, feathered locks across his forehead. He’s a deep, grey-green to Rej’s jade. His tusks are sharp, jutting straight up from his mouth with next to no curve. He sticks out a blocky hand, “Durz.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Fjord says, taking his hand in a firm shake. “Captain Fjord.”  
“Is that a first name or a last?” asks the man across from him. He’s a ruddy tan with his broad chest hanging down his stomach. His tusks are narrower and bow out to frame his narrow nose. He's also spotted with sweat despite the relative cool in the bar.

“It's my name,” Fjord says, and holds out his hand after releasing Durz’s. “You are?”

“Batul,” he says, accepts Fjord’s hand, then gestures over to the last of them. “And this old bastard’s Felzak.”

Felzak smiles, his round, ochre face scrunching around his front facing tusks. 

“Zak,” he insists. He’s heftier than Rej and not quite as muscular, but he’s got softer features with hair and a beard that flow down his chest. “Rej was just telling us about you.”

“Only good things, I’m sure,” Fjord says, casting a glance at him.

Rej winks and gives his hip a cheeky pinch. “Of course, Captain."

“So, gentlemen," Fjord says, "you're all friends of Rej?”

“One way to put it," Batul laughs. "We all met a ways back. Zak and me, we're from Asarius. We left before the war started, headed to the coast. Didn't know we'd be trading the fires of war for the gods forsaken hell-pit that is these islands!”

Zak chuckles and passes him a cloth napkin from his belt. "It's not so bad once you're used to it, Baty," he chides. "You keep wanting to come back."

“It's the only place that has fucking olives that aren't drenched in piss-water," Batul grouses. "Rej, did you know that's how they store them on the mainland?”

"Blasphemy," Rej says, nodding solemnly despite the grin pulling around his tusks.

“I don't mind a good pickled olive," Durz says, getting his ear flicked by Batul for the dissent. "Ow, everything out here tastes like seawater anyway, what are you moaning about pickled olives when it's all brine anyway?”

“Hey now," Fjord interjects, "the wine's decent.”

All four laugh, Rej clapping him across the back. "You can save sucking my dick for later."

Fjord flushes, his ears lowering in embarassment. Zak looks over at him in surprise, "Isn't that the cutest fuckin' thing, your little ears can fold."

"Are they... not typically able to do that?" Fjord asks.

Zak lifts a hand toward him, but puts it firmly back on the table before touching him. "All us orcs can, but it's a grab-bag for your ilk. Didn't think you'd be able to with the pointy nubs you've got there. You must have a lotta Orc in you."

Unused to having his ears pointed out as too _short_, Fjord just chuckles, "I've certainly _had_ a lot of Orc in me."

That earns him Rej's hand on his thigh, thumb against the crease of his hip. He leans in so his tusks frame Fjord's ear and his lips brush against the lobe when he whispers, "You could have more, if you'd like."

The rest of the table notices Fjord's deep flush as Batul slaps the table, "Oy, you care to share or what?"

"That's what I'm asking!" Rej says, free arm thrown wide.

"Well just put it out on the table then," Durz says.

Zak chortles, "Right here on the table?"

“I don't know what he's into," Durz shoots back. "Ay, cap, that what you're into?”

Fjord looks about the table, bewildered, "Is uh, was this what we're doing? All, ah, four of you?"

“If that's what you're into," Batul reiterates, gently, as though soothing a spooked horse. "We're all here a few days to rut with Rej later, if you prefer a solo show with him. No offense taken.”

Fjord looks to Rej, who keeps his face carefully neutral, then back to the table at large. He's suddenly very aware of the empty room, the barred door, and the heady smell. He swallows heavily, his mouth dry. "Not to say that the spirit isn't willing, my good men, but the body..."

"We can be gentle," Batul assures him.

“Or, if you'd prefer we not," Zak says, thumbing his lightning bolt earring, “I’m a cleric of Kord.”

Fjord helps himself to whatever is in Rej's cup just to lubricate his tongue a little. The rush of wine gets his words free after a second. "How could I refuse so polite an offer?"

Rej laughs, stealing his cup back, "That's what we like to hear!"

“Get yourself out of those fancy clothes of yours," Batul says, scooting closer to Fjord. "Wouldn't want to get too into it and ruin them on you.”

“Certainly not." Fjord sheds his shirt, pulling it up and over his head to a series of hoots and whistles, the loudest coming from Rej who takes it upon himself to take the shirt from Fjord's hands and toss it across the back of his chair. "Happy to oblige.”

“I'll bet," Durz laughs. He spreads his legs a bit in welcome. "Come here. Batul and Zak like to start with each other and Rej's had you long enough.”

Fjord looks over and sure enough Batul has his fist in Zak's beard, pulling him almost across the table into a fierce kiss. Rej slips a sly finger down the crease of Fjord's hip, making him shudder into a soft groan, but he's met with Rej's voice in his ear, "Give him a show for me, Cap'n."

Fjord slips off Rej's lap with some resistance and saunters, as well as he can saunter given how tight his pants are now, to Durz's welcoming lap. He straddles the packed thigh offered to him, grinding against it as he leans toward him, "You've got me. Now what?"

"Mm, giving me the reigns then?" Durz asks. He lays two blocks hands on either side of Fjord's waist and hoists him closer. "Tell me what you see," he demands, flexing his chest, looking down his nose at Fjord.

"I see, ah, a well defined specimen of an Orc." Fjord watches Durz's expression carefully, gauging his response. Durz is hard to read, especially at this angle, so he continues, "Your muscles are so... big...”

Durz’s stoic gaze cracks, smiling around his tusks, “You’re pretty bad at the body worshipping thing, huh.” 

Fjord frowns, cheeks hot, “Sorry.”

“It’s not for everyone,” he says.

“Maybe he just likes men with meat on their bones,” Rej calls.

Durz quirks his brow in annoyance, but looks back to Fjord without acknowledging the interruption. “Touch me, then, Captain. If you can’t use your words, use your mouth.”

Fjord doesn’t need to be told twice, not with the tantalizing prospect of tight muscle under flushed skin, flexing, bulging. Fjord’s gotten tougher over the years, gotten burlier, but there’s definitely an allure to the hard cut figure—his own body’s always seemed to resist it, more inclined to starvation-born sinew or thickly slabbed muscle padded with fat. The diligence required to get this cut, let alone maintain it, is admirable and incredibly hot. His mind travels back to Wursh, briefly, before the taste of salt and leather pulls him back to the present. Durz encourages Fjord’s wet kisses up his chest, taking Fjord by the wrists and planting his hands against his defined stomach.

“Come on, Captain, feel that? That’s power. That’s discipline.” He chuckles deep in his chest when Fjord gets to his throat, still mouthing against his skin. Fjord feels the vibration against his lips, flicking a tongue against the hollow of Durz’s neck. “Yeah, mark my neck, Cap. Let me see your brand on my skin.”

Fjord starts to bite loosely, but the image of the fucking tusktooth tattoo pierces the thrum of adrenaline and endorphins and he starts to laugh, smiling with a pinch of skin between his front teeth. His laughter is caught short when Durz closes his fist in Fjord’s hair, pulling him back.

“Something funny?”

Fjord groans at the keen pain, a counterpoint to the pleasure and certainly not an unwelcome addition. “Ah, no-sir.”

Durz’s eyebrows shoot up, accompanied by a throb between his legs poking into Fjord’s knee. “Oh? Sir? You hear that, Rej? I’m sir!”

“I was never sir,” Rej says, much closer to Fjord’s ear than he had anticipated. Rej’s hands cup Fjord’s chest from behind, thumbing over his hard nipples in a rough tweak. With Durz still holding tight to his hair, he can only tilt his head back further, looking back at Rej almost upside down. The man is seated so he’s nearly sandwiching Fjord between himself and Durz. He rolls the nubs of Fjord’s nipples hard between his fingers, and it hurts, but his cock twitches, the tip dragging against the rough fabric of his pants. Rej leans his face almost flush against Fjord’s ear, making it twitch with the words. “You going to address me that nice now, too?”

“Yessir,” Fjord says, and that gets his tits treated a bit more gently. He sighs at the gentle touches to his chest, a slow rub of Rej’s thumbs. “Thank you, sir.”

“Good man,” Rej says. “You want to give Durz a kiss then? Show him how good you are?”

Fjord looks back to Durz, starting to lean forward, but stopping when the grip on his hair doesn’t let up. He catches on when Durz keeps his face completely flat, almost expectant. “May I kiss you, sir?”

“You’re a quick study at this, at least,” Durz says, almost as an aside. He untangles his fingers, giving Fjord’s scalp a quick massage. “Show me how you kiss.”

Fjord takes either side of Durz’s face in his hands, and presses their lips together, framing his face with Durz’s tusks. Their noses bump, tongues touch. It’s wet and hot and it has Fjord all but humping Durz’s thigh as the other man’s tongue fills his mouth almost to the throat. Fjord pants into the kiss, pulling back for air and to gasp, “Like this.”

Rej has a hand over Fjord’s belly, almost possessive, and pulls him back so he’s flush to Rej’s chest. He tucks his fingers under Fjord’s chin, thumb stroking his kiss-swollen lip. “Like I taught you, hm?”

“Yes,” Fjord says, the thumb dipping into his mouth as he gets the word out, pressing down on his tongue then dragging out and over his lip, slick and warm. Fjord holds Rej’s thumb in his mouth when he dips in again, sucking just hard enough to show his appreciation, and eagerness to proceed. 

“Look at you, showing off for my friends like this,” Rej mutters. “So good for us.”

“Some of us,” Batul cuts in, not quite sharp enough to pull Fjord from his hazy arousal, but enough to make him glance over. Batul’s seated and he’s shed his short pants, nude but for the dark hair covering him in dense patches. A small cask of olive oil beside them; Zak stands behind Batul, nuzzling his nape, one hand interlaced with Batul’s over his stomach, the other between his legs. Fjord has a moment of dull surprise, Zak spreading Batul’s lips, thumb on his clit. Oh. Batul bucks his hips into it, his fingers digging into Zak’s forearm for a moment. “Bring him over, let’s see how he does with a real man’s cunt.”

“You okay with that?” Rej asks. 

“Yes,” Fjord says, it’s not the first man’s pussy he’s ever been faced with, and hopefully it won’t be the last. Though given the tense strength he can see in Batul’s thighs as he beckons Fjord over, it might be. There are worse ways to go. 

“Good man,” Rej says, then stands and pulls Fjord up with him. Durz frowns at the loss of him, but makes no complaint. Instead he follows after, heavy footsteps joking Fjord’s and Rej’s the short distance to Batul. The swift pat on the back is all the direction Fjord needs, going to his knees and shuffling the remainder of the way to the intense heat of Batul’s body. 

For Batul’s part, he’s gentle. His left hand is still entwined with Zak’s, but his right cups Fjord’s cheek for a moment. “You know how to do this or you want Zak to give you some lessons first?”

“You’re not my first,” Fjord says, looking up at him through his lashes. “Just tell me what you like, sir.”

“Oh, I get the sir treatment, too? Just put your face in there and do what comes natural then, boy.” Batul wastes no time switching from delicate to blunt, nudging Fjord’s head forward. Fjord runs his tongue over the engorged lips, tasting the bitter-salt sweat and slick against skin and hair—ironically not dissimilar to the very same food he was bitching about earlier courtesy the choice in lubricant. Fjord is mindful of his short tusks, keeping his face as still as he can as he licks and nuzzles, humming as he goes. Batul is not ashamed of vocalizing his satisfaction, moaning and biting out the occasional word of praise. His thighs are an ever present, if welcome, threat as they tighten against Fjord’s head, Batul’s hand cupped over Fjord’s ear and scratching lightly against the shorn sides the only real promise he has that he’s not going to be crushed.

The rush of blood in his ears drowns out everything else while he eats Batul out, his mouth and chin soaked. It’s only when Batul spreads his thighs and tugs his hair that he comes up for air. “Hm?”

“Zak’s turn,” Batul says, almost mournful.

“If you don’t mind,” Zak says, having moved to Batul’s side at some point. When Fjord shakes his head, Zak grins around his massive tusks. “Up on the table then.”

Evidently he isn’t moving fast enough, because Zak provides some rough assistance in stark contrast to his otherwise soft demeanor. Fjord finds himself flipped on his back, the smooth grain of the table against his skin. His vision recenters with Zak above him, working his cock out of his trousers. It’s a hefty thing, thick as Fjord’s clenched fist and standing at full attention once the rough fabric is out of the way. 

"This position okay?" Zak asks, giving himself a few strokes. Fjord's position gives him plenty opportunity to appreciate the push and pull of well-oiled fingers against veined skin.

“Yes, I'd say so," Fjord says, taking a deep breath. "I ah, it's been a while since I've done this though, so if you wouldn't mind-”

“I'll be easy with you," he says, then pauses in contemplation, still lazily fondling himself. "Unless.”

“Unless?”

"There is magic that might help. If you would let me." Zak is that same placid calm he's maintained since Fjord entered, but it instantly sets Fjord on edge. The other three orcs are standing at the other end of the table, Batul with a hand around Durz and Rej's necks on either side of him, switching off deep kisses and pawing gropes.

Rej pulls away a moment to put a hand on Fjord's chest, "You can say no."

"What kind of magic?" Fjord asks, acknowledging Rej's hand with a brief touch before focusing back on Zak.

“Gentle encouragement," he says. "A little something to make this easier on you.”

"Mind control?" Fjord ventures.

Zak laughs, patting Fjord's cheek with a slick hand. "It can't make you do anything you don't want to do."

Rej's hand on his stomach gives him a gentle pat, but Fjord thinks about how much of a bitch it is to warm up his throat for something like this and figures he could use all the help he can get. He's not without protection, no matter how it might look, him all but nude and spread out on the table like this. "All right."

"It will feel... fuzzy," Zak warns, and traces a nonsense pattern against Fjord's jaw.

The feeling is fuzzy, to a degree. It's like a heavy quilt on his mind, gently pulling over him. Fjord feels the instinct to throw it off, resist the lull that comes with submitting to it, and forces his overactive mind to be still; just for a moment, just long enough for the feeling to do that hard part for him. It falls and Fjord feels himself go all but limp on the table. "Feels... kinda nice," he mumbles.

“That's good," Zak says, hand slipping lower, over Fjord's neck where it massages gently. "You've been very good. You'd like to relax, wouldn't you?”

“Yeah," Fjord says, blinking slowly. "You going to fuck my throat?”

“In a minute," Zak says. "We've got to work up to that, yeah?”

"Mm," Fjord says. Rej is watching him out of the corner of his eye, still playing with Durz and Batul.

“Good." Zak tilts Fjord's head back over the lip of the table. "Open your mouth for me. Tongue out.”

Fjord does so, letting his mouth fall open to accept the tip of Zak's cock. It eases in, just far enough that it brushes the back of his tongue, then pulls out just as slowly. Then back in, a short rest. It's hot and smooth and all Fjord can see is the gentle thrusting of it and the heavily swaying balls that follow. He gags once as Zak knocks against the back of his throat and the thrust stops for a second.

“Easy," he says, and pulls out completely. "Deep breath then relax.”

Fjord inhales through his nose as the cock at his lips starts to push inward, his tongue running gently over the top of it, feeling the topography of veins and skin. It's heady with sweat and Zak's arousal and it has his head swimming almost more than the spell. He feels the tip push against his throat and angles his head a bit to give it some room. Saliva pools in his mouth, running over his lips as he tries to swallow around Zak's cock while it pushes inward. Zak voices his approval, still giving him muted direction and praise while he bottoms out into Fjord's mouth, stretching his jaw and filling his throat. Zak's balls fall over Fjord's face, finally hilted. He lays there, feeling the twitching of Zak's cock against his tongue, repressing the urge to close his mouth as his chest starts to hurt.

“Hold," Zak says, voice tight. "There's a good man. Just another... And breathe," he says, pulling out. Fjord doesn't need to be told, drawing in a ragged lungful of air, panting for a few seconds around a cough. Zak laughs when Fjord gets his breathing under control and opens his mouth again. "Very good.”

The second hilting goes smoother, though his face is a mess of spit and slick and bitter precum. It takes a few minutes of Zak training his throat, easing him into taking the full length, but faster than he'd anticipated, Fjord is taking a rapid thrusting like a champion, timing his breaths to not choke or gasp with it. Gradually Zak leans into it, his soft gut falling over Fjord's collar and chest. He can't see who's pulling at his pants, but he feels the warm air of the bar agaist his painfully hard dick and the weight of several hands touching him at once. His nose is a little sore with the force of Zak's balls slapping against it, so he taps Zak’s thigh twice.

In an instant Zak is off him, pulling out of his mouth and giving Fjord a once over. “All right?”

“Yeah,” Fjord says, voice hoarse. He clears his throat while two pairs of hands help him into a sitting position. Rej hands him a kerchief to wipe his face. “That’s some spell.”

“Wish it lasted more’n about ten seconds,” Zak says, smiling like the cat that got the canary. 

“Bastard,” Fjord says, pulling him down by the beard to kiss him. He moans into Zak’s mouth when he feels someone’s mouth on his cock. He tries to look, but Zak catches his mouth again.

“Focus on me a minute,” he says, and that doesn’t sound too bad a prospect with the promise of more kisses in addition to the warm slide of a tongue on his dick. Someone else guides his hand to their cock, and once he wraps his fingers around them, he’s embarrassed he can narrow it down to Durz. He strokes him slowly, enjoying the attention of four sets of eyes on him. Zak eases Fjord back down on the table, this time laying his dick across Fjord’s face rather than having him deep throat him. 

Fjord can see, barely, Batul next to Zak again. That puts Rej as the one sucking him off as Fjord twists his wrist with each downward stroke on Durz’s cock. Fjord gives an undignified squawk when his legs are hoisted up and over Rej’s shoulders, his broad tongue swiping over his balls, his taint, then over his hole as Rej spreads his cheeks with his thumbs. That man loves to rim. Zak moves aside as Durz pulls away from Fjord’s hand, taking Zak’s place at his mouth.

“Hands are nice,” he grunts, “mouths are better.”

Fjord eagerly takes him in, suckling on the head and running his tongue over the slit before sliding his head back to take Durz’s cock halfway. The angle’s not great and Durz is making him do most of the work, but if the sound he thinks he hears is in fact Durz’s nails digging into the wood on either side of his head, he’s not doing too bad a job of it. He feels more than he hears Rej moan in surprise, but Fjord is too busy to see what caused it. Durz finally starts to thrust on his own accord, apparently satisfied with Fjord’s efforts enough to rock his hips a little back and forth, dipping into Fjord’s mouth almost to his throat, then back. Durz is breathing heavily, almost panting. Fuck it. Fjord reaches up to grab Durz’s tight, muscular ass and pull him forcefully forward, swallowing hard and exhaling through his nose to take Durz all the way down, hoping perhaps he’ll take a hint. 

“Fuck! Fine, have it your way,” Durz growls, taking Fjord’s neck between his hands and driving his cock home. Fjord gags, almost coughing and repeatedly swallowing as to keep from turning his stomach, but gods it feels good to have his throat being used. The thumbs braced on his throat massage around where Durz’s cock stretches. “Gods, you feel that, Captain? All the way down, you’re taking me.”

“Careful he doesn’t puke on you,” Batul calls from somewhere in front of them. 

“He won’t,” Durz snaps back. “The mouth on him. Rej, you the one what taught him this?”

Rej pauses from his eager tonguing to quip, “That’s all natural for him.”

“Gonna cum straight into your belly,” Durz warns, pausing for a moment. Maybe waiting for a slap on the thigh, but Fjord just squeezes his furry ass. True to his word, Durz grunts and shoves forward, balls tight and balanced almost perfectly on Fjord’s nose as he dumps a load down his throat. Fjord swallows hard again, feeling Durz’s spasming as he squirts again, then a third time before pulling out, the bitter tang trailing along Fjord’s tongue and dripping off his lips with a veritable flood of spit. His throat’s a wreck, his jaw hurts like a motherfucker, and he’s never been more pleased with himself seeing how shaky Durz is as he steps back, bracing himself on the table. “Fucking hells!”

Fjord wipes his face with the kerchief again, coughing and laughing, then groaning as Rej finds a spot in him with tongue and finger. It takes him three tries to ask, “You gonna fuck me or not?”

“You just lay there and rest your voice a bit,” Rej says, pausing to tap his slick cock against his loosened hole. “Gonna want to hear you calling my name when I fuck your brains out.”

Fjord clears his throat again, laughing deliriously as he’s pulled forward so he can rest his head against a flat surface. Durz circles him a bit, teasing at Fjord’s nipples playfully. “Hope you’re good for two or three rounds, Captain, because I’m looking to make the night last.”

“Me, too,” Fjord croaks, then pauses in massaging his throat. What’s the use in devotion if you can’t let yourself have some extra fun. Melora, he thinks, don’t I deserve it after everything? Warm, healing energy passes through his body as he casts Lesser Restoration, the lingering soreness in his neck and jaw vanishing. “Who’s next, my good men?”

Zak guffaws, “I coulda done that for you! Rej, you never said you’d snagged another man of faith!”

“He’s full of surprises this one,” Rej says, thrusting in with three fingers. “Neat trick, Cap.”

Fjord takes Zak in his throat again next, getting him halfway to orgasm before Rej finally, finally shoves his cock into Fjord’s ass. The stretch is smooth and painless, each blunt thrust sending Fjord twisting up off the table in pleasure. His right hand is occupied with Batul’s pussy, letting him guide his hand just where he likes, and Batul is far from shy about directing him. His lips are slick and swollen, Batul spreading himself open with two fingers and Fjord swipes his thumb over his hooded clit. Batul takes his hand by the wrist, flattening it out so his palm is flush to his hot pussy, middle two fingers between his labia but not pushing in, just up and down rubbing as Batul moans and pants, playing with his nipples. 

Durz takes Fjord’s dick in his mouth as Fjord plays with his half hard cock with his left hand, bobbing up and down as Rej thrusts with snapping force into him. 

He comes twice before Zak empties into his mouth and Rej fills his ass. Fjord is cross eyed in bliss as Rej wipes himself clean and looks over to Zak. “Kord feeling generous today?”

Zak just grins, then puts a hand over his lightning bolt earring and speaks an incantation. 

Fjord is beginning to worry for his crew, but hopefully Orly can keep it all under control as he gets his soul fucked out of him. The warm, almost familiar feeling of rejuvenating magic washes over him, a crackle of lightning in the air making his hair stand on end and his cock twitch in excitement. Orly’s certainly got it under control.

**Author's Note:**

> To be continued.
> 
> Thank you so much to LoseBetter for looking this over!
> 
> Also:  
Don’t use olive oil as lube if you’re also using condoms, stay safe my lovelies.


End file.
